Fireflies in the Dark
by Talon skydragon
Summary: AU, I/K. The new world is falling apart, and so is Kagome's life in america. Things couldn't possibly get worse...Until she's kidnapped by indians. And her captor, strangely, has long, white hair.
1. Chapter One

Author's Note: Alright, ah, I really want to do a romance and this crazy little idea has been stirring about in my head for the past few weeks and won't let me alone. So I'm starting this. ^_^;; Will be fairly long, AU, set in North America in the early settlement period (wait! Don't go! It's not that bad, really! ;-; ). It was spurred into life by my wondering why there weren't youkai in other parts of the world, and by a class I'm taking on Native American history, and..well, you'll just have to read to find out. ^_^ (Please? Please? ;_; ). Anyway, I'll stop my rambling, I just wanted to mention that in order to say that I'm not an expert on their myriad of cultures at all; I'm going to try to be as accurate as I can, but if I get something wrong, I'm not at all trying to be offensive, and I apologize profoundly ahead of time. Thank you. ^^; Some swearing and adult subject matter implied. 

Disclaimer: Inuyasha is mine. What? He's mine, mine I tell you! You can't have him! Noooooo! ;_; *gets dragged away yet again by the copyright police, because, of course, Inuyasha is the property of the wondrous Rumiko Takahashi, who kindly lets poor worshipping fanfic authors use her characters..and lets them fantasize about owning them even though they never will* 

  


**Fireflies in the Dark**

By Amanda Hitchcock (but call me Tally ^_^ ) 

  
Summer storms hung taught on the breeze, filling the evening dusk with a strange tension as it set over the hills and forests; a sense of unease. He could feel it. Oh, he could feel it. Even the other tribesmen were unsettled by it, and their senses were nothing compared to that of the young man standing alone atop a rocky crag. His ears twitched to follow a flock of crows passing, and his nose wrinkled slightly in distaste. Something about the air was too sweet and crackly, like lightning about to strike. But that wasn't what was bothering him. 

It was how empty everything felt. He couldn't understand it--what had happened? 

"So this is where you've been hiding," a smooth voice chuckled softly. His ears turned back at the footsteps accompanying the voice as they came up the slope behind him, but his eyes stayed steadily fixed upwards on the line of the horizon above the forest, catching the last flashes of sun in their amber irises. A young man with hair like raven finally crested the rocky outcropping, and sat down heavily beside him. "I've been looking for you since midday. We're leaving for the raid soon; the others expect you to lead them." 

A noncommittal snort was his answer. 

"Inuyasha," the visitor began, then stopped to quietly study his fellow hunter. The two were a strange sight together, one with black hair and one with stark, startling white--but had one of the white strangers been there, what would surely have drawn their attention was not his hair, but the pair of pointed, inhuman ears poking out of it. 

Miroku noticed none of that. Instead, what had caught his eye was the unusually peaceful expression on the hanyou's face, and knew that to be the mark of a contemplative mood. He was the only one who seriously tried speaking with the tribe's most feral member. He'd gotten used to the boy's moods. 

"Any signs?" Miroku asked gently. Considering his nature, everyone expected him to know more about it than the rest. But he didn't. Still, attuned to the spirit world in a way different than the others, he was the best to watch for any trace of their return. 

Inuyasha lifted his head to the breeze again and inhaled deeply, smelling the earthy scents of the mountains and the crisp tang of the sky, filtering through them for something else, anything else. But he came up dry again..the forest smelt dead. Empty. A scent profoundly disturbing and unnatural to the hanyou; add in the new, bitter scents of the white strangers and it was almost sickening. 

They were gone. The spirit beasts--myths, demons, spirits, youkai; they went by many names around the world, but they were all essentially the same thing. And they were disappearing. 

He had known something bad was coming even before the white men arrived years ago; a tremor had gone through the spirits, and he had felt it, just not strongly enough. And he'd stupidly, stupidly ignored it. And so he was as surprised as the rest of them the day the spirit beasts began to leave. Vanished, moved out. And he had no idea why, except that it had something to do with the arrival of the strangers and their changing world, and for that he hated them. 

Angrily, he snorted again and slumped down beside the other man. "Gone," he snarled, finally turning to Miroku to glare at him through a mass of cloudy white hair. "All gone. I told you, they left. Every last one of them picked up and vanished. See that," he gestured at the expanse of forests and fields, the leaves just beginning to turn, "nothing." A troubled pause. "Do you know what animals do before an earthquake?" he asked quietly. "They flee." 

"A bad omen," Miroku murmured. Inuyasha was silent. It was more than a bad omen--and it more than irked him that he had been left behind. 

Miroku watched the last of the light seep from the graying sky, and then suddenly gave Inuyasha a cheery smile. "Perhaps this raid will restore the balance." 

The hanyou gave him a flat look. "You're just hoping to capture a girl." 

"You wound me with your baseless accusations. Come now, don't tell me you don't want to catch a few people?" 

"No." Inuyasha's voice was suddenly cold and hard. "I take no one. I'm only there for the fight." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I said only for the fight." Glaring, he challenged Miroku with his eyes. 

"Suit yourself." Miroku shrugged and stood up, sighing as he adjusted the beads and talismans around his neck. He knew the hanyou wasn't much of a people person; it was a wonder the dog spirit tolerated his presence. "It's going to be quite a fight though; we're attacking one of their larger towns this time." 

Inuyasha suddenly grinned, a grin made dangerous by the sharp fangs it revealed. He stood and turned away from the night sky, flexing his claws as he started down the hill, channeling his anger in a new direction. It was a good night for a battle. "I'm counting on it." 

  
-------- 

"Bitch," someone muttered as they walked by, and spat at her. Kagome simply sidestepped and moved on, hurrying home with a loaf of bread tucked under her arm and a pouch of sugar held in the other hand. Sidelong glares and vulgar murmurs followed her down the street from the corner store, tailing her all the way to where her house stood far on the edge of town. She gratefully closed the door against them at last and slumped against the wall, letting out a tense, worried breath. She couldn't even step outside anymore. 

"Kagome? Is that you?" The girl started, then recognized her mothers voice and smoothed out her skirts, following the sound into the pantry. Her mother was there churning butter, and Kagome silently offered her the bread and sugar from market. 

"Thankyou, dear," Mrs. Higurashi said, taking them and bustling over to the cupboard, in full command of her kitchen. When she turned around again, she found that Kagome had rolled up her sleeves and taken over the churn. Awkward silence hung in the air. "So," her mother added briskly, "how was your walk?" 

"It was fine." 

The woman sighed, concern overtaking her face, and put a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "This will all be over soon darling. They'll find you innocent at the trial tomorrow, and we can all go back to a normal life." 

"And if they don't?" Kagome countered. Her mother frowned. 

"Don't think like that." 

"Well I might as well, everyone else is," Kagome grumbled under her breath. The townspeople had been fast enough to turn on her as soon as the charges were made public; in fact, they were all too eager to bring her down. Everybody needs a scapegoat. 

It was three weeks ago now that Hiten and his brother Manten had cornered her by the river alone. Young proper ladies like her were not supposed to go walking by themselves, especially with all the horrid rumors spreading of Indian savages mounting bloody attacks on innocent towns; yet she did it anyway on a regular basis, maybe to prove she wasn't afraid, or simply because she enjoyed long walks through the inner edge of the woods. But it was a different kind of savage she had encountered by the river that day. 

Manten, one of the local boys, had been sitting on the riverbank, almost like he had been waiting for her. He'd invited her to stop and rest awhile, she'd declined, and that's when Hiten had grabbed her from behind and wrestled her to the ground. She'd screamed; Manten covered her mouth. And Hiten had started lifting her skirts. 

At which point she'd struck him so hard that he hadn't woken up since. 

From that moment on, she was an outcast; Manten told them how she had violently attacked them; heck, that _she_ had tried to seduce _them_, and the gossip spread like brushfire; she was a witch, she was a sinner, a slut, a whore, she associated with demons and drew on their strength to do the will of the devil. After all, how else could such a delicate looking girl send a boy into a coma? She didn't even know herself. 

Kagome finished churning, her arms sore from trying to get some of her frustration out by attacking the cream. Damn it all to hell, she thought, storming up the stairs to her room and throwing herself backwards on the bed. She stared dully at the rafters on the ceiling. 

Convicted of assault and accused of witchcraft and demonic possession at the age of sixteen. My, she certainly had a knack for screwing things up, didn't she? Oh yes. 

"Kagome, I'm going Mrs. Hutchson's on the other side of town, I won't be back until late. Stay out of trouble," her mother called from down the stairs, followed by the sound of footsteps and the door opening and shutting. Kagome almost threw a pillow after her. Stay out of trouble? She was already in trouble! 

And she hated to admit it, but it hurt. It hurt and frightened her that people had turned on her so fast; not that she had always been on the best terms with all the townspeople, since her family was one of the wealthier ones, but they had at least been _civil_. She was all alone now. And it horrified her that no one believed her. They..they had attacked her, touched her, and _she_ was the one being punished. That was justice for you. 

To be honest..she was scared. She knew the trial tomorrow wasn't going to go well; the only witness was Manten, and the only evidence was a comatose boy. Case closed. Didn't matter that she was always quiet and well behaved; it was always the quiet ones. 

Rolling over, she half-sighed, half-whimpered. She felt horribly alone in the world, and the darkening sky outside felt horribly ominous. The dark haired girl didn't even bother to change into her night clothes, just lay there staring miserably at the walls until exhaustion overtook her. 

It was because of this that she was asleep when the attack began. 

  
---------------------- 

AN: Next chapter ought to be up within a few days; I seem to be writing this fic at a much faster pace than usual, so I hope to get into regular updates (but I do have classes, so bear with me). Anything confusing shall be explained fully in later chapters, so don't worry. ^_^; 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: *faints away at the replies* Oh my god, people actually read this! And even liked it a little! Thank you so much everyone. ^_^;; *has little to no self-esteem* I'm afraid I've never heard of "Dear America: Standing in the Light", but if it has anything on the capture of Susanna Johnson by the Abenaki tribe, then yes, I borrowed a bit. ^_^;; While this is a made-up tribe (since I wouldn't want to offend a real tribe by calling it them and getting their culture all wrong), I borrowed their captive-taking habits from the Abenaki to be realistic (like I said, I *am* taking native American history ^^; ). They're sort of a mix of New England native cultures, for reasons that will later be shown. ^^ (Note: all indian words in this chapter are, sadly, made up. I'm sorry, I'd use real ones if I knew them! And I will whenever I can, but for this chapter, it was necessary ^^; ). Anyway, thank you all again, and here's the next chapter! ^_^ 

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Inuyasha has not become mine between the writing of this chapter and the last one. ;_; I wish it was so, but it is not. 

Chapter Two: 

The first thing Kagome thought when she awoke to wailing screams and groaning crashes was that the trial was over and they had come to hang her. 

The second thing she thought was that she smelled smoke. 

"What the..?" She rolled out of bed abruptly and landed on the floor, ignoring the aching protests of her back from sleeping wrong to scramble in the dark for a candle or a match. Another scream sounded, and she quickly ran to the window instead. And stared. 

Night had fallen, but the clouds were cast an unnatural, flickering orange that gave the scene an almost dreamlike quality. Smoke roiled angrily, the foundations of houses moaned and gave, and people flooded the streets in a panic. 

The town was ablaze. 

"Oh god.." Kagome pushed back from the window, but then a wild, eerie cry cut the air and she rushed back again. The ululating howl rose to an almost inhuman pitch, shrieking in the night air, and then was joined by other voices to create a single haunting sound. And in that surreal moment, a figure moved into her view. 

A mane of wild white hair falling around blazing eyes glowed in the firelight, his cheeks streaked in war-paint, a burning torch in his hand. He wore a string of beads around his neck and a pair of fringed leather pants, and aside from a few feathers in his hair and a tomahawk at his side, nothing else. He strode forward with an almost animal grace, then suddenly threw back his head--and out came that eerie, howling war cry again. The other voices answered, and he waved his torch ahead and charged towards a new house, followed by a group of other men. 

He was the leader, she realized in almost awe, unable to pull her eyes away. 

They were being attacked by Indians, she realized after that. Suddenly she was more than able to pull away. 

"Mom!" Kagome yelled fearfully, her voice catching. All thoughts of the trial were gone from her mind--she'd heard the stories about what Indians did to their prisoners. And she'd thought things were already bad-why did her family have to come here? When she got no answer, she realized her mother must still be out. Her next thought then was that she had to get out of the house. Now. _Maybe I can escape, run and find mom and we can get away._

She threw open the door to her room, bolted down the stairs, screamed, and bolted back up. 

Her house was on fire. 

She quickly shut the door and collapsed against it in a fit of coughing, gasping from the lungful of thick smoke she'd just gotten. The entire first floor was in flames; the old, dry wood of the house catching like kindling. The man with the torch had apparently been very busy. 

Covering her mouth with a handkerchief, she did the only thing she could think of and ran back to the open window. She had nothing she could make a rope out of--really, bedsheets can only go so far--so she was going to have to jump. It was only the second floor though; couldn't be that bad, right? She looked down hopefully. 

Wow, those farm tools were _really_ poorly placed. 

"Okay, jumping is out.." Kagome said to herself nervously around the cloth, beginning to panic. She leaned as far out the window as she could, looking desperately for a way to escape. The fire hadn't reached her floor yet, but the smoke already was, stinging her eyes. She could just make out more figures running though; this time familiar ones--people from the town trying to get away. Her hopes lifted. "Hey--someone help! Please help me!" 

They didn't even look up. 

Her heart fell..she was going to die here, burned alive in her own house. "Please..help?" Another fit of violent coughing overtook her as a flock of Indians came running in the same direction the townspeople had went; no doubt the reason they were running so fast. 

One of them suddenly stopped below her window, looking around in confusion. The dark haired man's eyes finally fell on her--he must have heard her coughing. Then, to her amazement, he flashed a look of complete surprise, and began shouting and waving his arms wildly in the direction that he'd come from. 

Apparently they hadn't expected someone to still be in the building when they set it on fire, she thought wryly. 

She nearly fell out the window in shock as the man with the blinding white hair suddenly came back into view, landing beside dark-hair. Dark-hair began gesturing and chattering wildly in some native language, and then pointed directly at her. White-hair followed his hand and met her eyes...and blinked. 

It seemed white-hair hadn't expected the house to be occupied either. 

Dark-hair started speaking and gesturing again, and white hair snapped his gaze away from her, his expression quickly shifting from one of 'Oops' to 'Hell, no!' Dark-hair pointed at her again, white-hair shouted vehemently and folded his arms. She couldn't understand a word of it, but it was pretty clear what they were saying: '_Go get her_,' dark-hair gestured. '_Go get her yourself_,' white-hair snarled. More posturing and arguing ensued. The entire scene would have been almost funny actually, if it hadn't been her they were talking about, and if her house hadn't been on fire with her in it. 

"Oh, for the love of..would _someone_ please get me down from here?!" Kagome yelled exasperatedly, interrupting their debate. She didn't know how she expected them to do that with the entire first floor in flames, but that didn't really matter to her at that point. White-hair looked guiltily up at her again, obviously reluctant, then continued to shout angrily at dark-hair-man. She couldn't believe this--heck, she was even started to get offended. Was she _that_ unworthy of saving? 

Dark-hair said a few more words, then gave white-hair a look that clearly read: '_You started the fire, you go get her!_' 

Snarling, white-hair impulsively threw his torch away, spun around, and leapt twenty feet straight into the air. 

"Oh my god--!" Kagome stepped back from the window and fell back onto the bed; just in time as the white-haired Indian landed gracefully on her windowsill. _No one can jump that high,_ she thought in a mixture of awe and panic. She also realized that he was actually quite young despite the color of his hair, probably only a little older than her. 

He crouched there and glared with eyes that were strangely cat-like, shining amber in the dark. 

Kagome's fear quickly gave way to indignation. What did he have to be mad at _her_ for?! "Wait a second--not _you_," she said angrily. "I don't want to be rescued by you--you're the one who set my house on fire in the first place!" Not to mention that escaping the fire to end up in Indian hands really was just a stroll right into the frying pan. 

"Keh," the Indian snorted with a roll of those strange eyes, stepping down from the sill and striding irritably towards her. "Mahe tik' tsu." 

She tried to scramble backwards but got tangled in the quilts. "Hey...hey! I said not you!" In two steps white-hair had reached her and lifted her clean off the ground, heading back to the window. Kagome screamed but found his hand suddenly covering her mouth. She bit it hard. 

"Gyah!" he yelled, snatching back his hand and shaking it. Narrowing his eyes, he hefted her up with one arm and unceremoniously flung her over his shoulder. 

"Eeep!" she yelped, mostly in surprise. He ignored her kicks and screams of protest and was two quick strides back to the window, where he paused to shift her weight on his shoulder and give her a seething look. 

"A're tehamaou," he muttered darkly, then added a sulky: "Feh." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not happy about this either you know," she grumbled. With that he simply stepped out the window and dropped to the ground. Kagome lost her breath in the fall, and found herself being carried swiftly into the dark forest before she even found the voice to scream. 

------------ 

It was a few hours before dawn before they finally stopped to rest. 

The night had rushed by almost like a dream for Kagome, or a nightmare if you like; around her she could vaguely hear and see dim figures moving--other captives like her and their captors--but it was too dark to make them out. They had been running for hours, trying to put as much distance between themselves and English territory as possible. Kagome had spent a good part of it in a half-conscious daze, dizzy from the smoke she had inhaled and from the fear and chaos. She was in shock. The only thing she could really remember was the steady, strong pace of the man carrying her, the softness of the long white hair brushing against her face..and the strangest sense that there was something wrong about his ears. 

The tribe finally slowed and chose a site to camp for the night however, sensing that some of the captives wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Kagome realized that most of the others had spent the night walking, and other than a few children and elderly people, she was the only one being carried. She flushed with embarrassment. 

"Excuse me, um..you can put me down now." But he didn't put her down; in fact, he didn't even acknowledge that she had spoken. Instead, he went around to each and every one of the other tribesmen--her still draped over his shoulder--to check up on them as they secured their prisoners and set up for the night. Kagome recognized a few faces among the crowd; most of them ones that had scorned her the past few weeks. Well, at least they're in this too, she thought glumly. But she was relieved that her mother wasn't among them. 

Her attention turned back to her captor, and in the light of the torches some Indians were carrying while he did his rounds, she could finally get a good look at him up close. She noted with amusement that he only glared at dark-hair sourly and didn't bother to approach him. Quite similar to the flood of glares she'd been receiving; when she was paid any attention at all. Kagome found herself strangely fascinated by that glare though as she studied his features best as she could from her vantage point. It was a lambent, brilliant gold. Not brown-gold, not hazel: gold. She'd never seen such an unnatural color. 

But then she caught sight of his ears. 

White-hair seemed to have finished with the others, and began walking a short distance away from the main group, when dark-hair called something out that sounded like a cheerful good night. White-hair grimaced and laid his ears back. _Laid them back._ Kagome found herself abruptly and intensely focused on them. They were pointed, covered in soft, downy white fur, each one alive and moving to follow sounds, like a cats or a dogs. 

They weren't human. 

The panicked thought would have arisen that this was some sort of ungodly demon or devil beast, if she wasn't so captivated and so dazed. As she began to be lulled half-asleep again by her captor's smooth gait and the quiet of the night, she found herself hesitantly reaching for them, just brushing one lightly. 

White-hair froze. His entire body stiffened and tensed, and Kagome realized with a start that he had not only stopped walking, he had stopped breathing. Then he dropped her where he stood. 

"Ow!" she cried, waking up fully as she hit the ground--hard. White-hair had already stepped away and was laying out some sort of woven blanket or mat on the ground, oblivious to her pain. The moment she got her bearings again though, she leapt to her feet and ran--and was jerked back by someone grabbing her by the collar. 

"Kyeh." White-hair looked at her firmly, let go, and began busily ignoring her again while he straightened out the mat. So she bolted again. 

And again he caught her and put her back. 

"Kyeh," he ordered. She tried to run a third time, and was pulled back with an exaggerated sigh and much eye-rolling. "Kyeh! Kyeh!" 

"Alright, alright, I'll stay," she sighed, sitting down in defeat. She found it sort of insulting that he didn't even bother looking at her; he knew exactly when she was going to run. It made her attempts at escape feel pathetic. 

But he had to sleep sometime, she thought with a mental smile. He has to sleep sometime, and then she'd slip away into the night and make her escape. She could make it back to town before they even knew she was gone. She was fresh since she'd been carried. 

White-hair pulled out a rope--and her stomach fell and turned cold. He'd already anticipated her move. 

Nonchalantly stopping a fourth attempt to run, he forced her to stand up straight, stretched out the length of rope... 

And looped it loosely once around her waist. 

Kagome stared. "...This is it? _This_ is supposed to hold me?" she asked, dumbfounded. Her hands were free, her legs were free--heck, it wasn't even wrapped tightly. A week-old baby could have gotten out of it. 

Her tone had apparently conveyed her skepticism, because he smirked lazily at her before slumping down heavily on the blanket, the two ends of the rope underneath him. "Mana sahoe." He pat the ground next to him. The meaning was obvious. 

"I'm really not tired," she said politely, eyeing the spot nervously. A lump of panic arose in her throat at the thought of lying down next to him--she'd never slept next to a man before, and certainly not a shirtless savage. And..and what if his intentions were..? She wasn't some village whore! 

"Ma-na sa-ho-e," he enunciated slowly, as if to a child. 

"No." She folded her arms with as much dignity as she could muster. "If you're looking for a bedmate, you can look someplace else. I'm quite fine up here." 

He sighed in frustration and yanked the rope. She yelped and fell, landing on the blanket beside him. Before she could even move to get up again however, he rolled over so his back faced her, still lying on top of the two ends of rope. "Mana sahoe, chi'taio." The last word sounded suspiciously like an insult. 

It wasn't long before his breathing turned shallow and slow, asleep. 

Kagome lay awake for a long time, perfectly still. A flood of relief washed through her that his intentions weren't impure, mingled with some surprise. According to other accounts, she should have been raped, scalped, and hung on a pole by now. The details were quite gruesome; scalping didn't always kill quickly, in fact, you might even survive it if they didn't tomahawk you after. 

The thought of scalping made her redouble her determination to escape. 

Almost a full hour passed before she began to move, excruciatingly slowly. As she shifted on the blanket it rustled slightly, and one of those dog-like ears turned towards her. Her heart nearly stopped. 

It turned around again without event, but it was several moments before she was able to breathe. The scare left her trembling slightly. _They must still listen and move on their own while he's asleep_, she realized, steadying herself. She waited a few more minutes to be positive he was still sound asleep, and began to move again, climbing shakily to her knees. 

Everything went well until she tried to move the rope. 

In half a heartbeat she was flattened down against the blanket again by his hand. A hiss of breath escaped her in sharp surprise, and by the time she took in what happened, he had rolled back over and was fast asleep again. 

_Any movement of the rope, and he wakes up!_ Suddenly his way of keeping her there didn't sound so silly after all. 

Fourteen more tries followed, each one resulting in him shoving her back down. No matter how she twisted or how carefully she moved, she couldn't wriggle out of the rope without stirring it. On the fourteenth attempt he opened one eye and looked at her hard before rolling back over with a mumbled curse--one that sounded suspiciously like 'wench', which she must have misheard since that was English. She found she didn't have the energy or the nerve left to try again after that, considering it was pretty futile. With a sigh she lay back and gazed at the milky pathway of stars dusting the heavens above her, wondering if her mother was alright, or if anyone would ever rescue her. It was unlikely--the colonies didn't have the resources for it. It finally began to sink in that this was it. She had been captured by Indians, and now she was at their mercy. God knows if she'd even survive. 

She wanted to cry. 

Despite such troubled thoughts, exhaustion claimed her at last. And the last thing she was aware of before drifting into fitful dreams was the soft, steady breathing of the man beside her, and the thought that he looked much more peaceful when he was asleep. 


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Ack, I'm so sorry this has taken so long; I've been swamped with essays all week! I also apologize if this chapter isn't so good; I've been sorely pressed for writing time, and moreover, I've been sorely pressed for sleep. So please forgive my sleep-deprived mind for not being able to write so well when it's tired. ;_; Anyway, Thank you *so* much everyone, I can't believe some of the replies I've gotten--thank you! I'm flattered. ^_^;; I even got my first piece of fic-fanart (thankyou again Erisu L.!). I'll try not to let everyone down. ^_^; And yes, Sango will eventually make her appearance, and Kagome and Inu will be able to talk to each other soon enough (don't worry though, it's not one of those Pocahontas 'we speak different languages but can mysteriously understand each other anyway' deals, much as I love Disney). I'm just having fun with all the confusion it causes. ^_^;; ( Disclaimer: Inuyasha still has yet to be mine. ;_; But, um..all my romantic fantasies of him are mine! ^__^; 

Chapter Three: 

Kagome woke with the gray calm before dawn, her eyes falling first on the length of rope lying twisted beside her face. Because of this, her first thought was again that they had come to hang her, and she scrambled to her knees away from it frantically. Her attention was then drawn away from the rope though, leaving her staring, half-asleep and disoriented: for the first time ever, she awoke not inside a house, but outside. 

The towering maples above her swayed slightly in the early morning breeze, and she was lying on some sort of reddish blanket. The sheer openness of it all numbed her--waking up outdoors was a very different experience--and it was several moments before she remembered the previous night. 

_That's right_, she thought, the Indians. She'd been kidnapped by Indians. She wasn't in her house because her house had been burnt down. 

Somehow that didn't reassure her. 

She looked at the spot where White-hair, as she'd unofficially dubbed him in her mind, lay the night before, and realized with surprise that it was empty. Unsteadily, she got to her feet and the rope around her waist fell forgotten to the ground. 

"Hello..?" she called out timidly, turning and searching the trees for any sign of her captor. Everything was suspended in a sleepy, almost tangible quiet, and a low mist hung in the distance. She was all alone; the white-haired man was gone. 

Irrationally now, her first reaction was a mix of indignation and disappointment--strange as it may seem. She wasn't sure why. The thought that she was so unworthy as a captive that the Indian man had simply left her was just another insult added to the burning of her house, dragging her through the forest, and sleeping next to her shirtless all night. Being raised a good wholesome Christian girl, she could not get over the lack of shirt. 

The thought was quickly replaced however with a much more logical, much louder instinct: Run. 

Run now. 

Run now and escape. 

Go! 

She turned to flee, but had not gotten three steps before the now-familiar voice broke the morning air, somehow both bored and commanding at the same time: 

"Kyeh." 

Kagome started at the disembodied voice, and stepped back ..and that's when her eyes fell where she hadn't thought to look before. Up. 

White-hair, idly braiding one of the snowy locks that draped over his shoulders, was sitting cross-legged on a branch. About thirty feet up, acting like it was the most normal place to sit in the world. Kagome watched wordlessly as he finished the first braid, tying it off with a small string of colored beads that chinked lightly when he moved. He then glared at her darkly, snorted, and proceeded to braid the other lock. 

It figured that he was an early riser. 

When the strange Indian finished, he sat back and folded his arms, diligently not looking at her. Kagome frowned at this; it wasn't like she had meant to be captured. If he didn't like her so much, why didn't he just let her go? 

"So, what are you doing up there?" she asked politely, attempting to break the tense silence between them. It was a reasonable question; most men didn't sit in trees. 

The look he gave her could have shattered glass. "Feh. Ama'no, taya matsuku." 

Oh, right. No English. 

"Up," she said slowly, moving her hands upwards in an exaggerated motion. Best she learn how to get around the language problem now. "You--" she pointed at him, "up--" she pointed at the tree, "why?" She shrugged her shoulders and indicated the tree again. 

White-hair lifted an eyebrow at her bizarre antics. For the moment at least, he seemed distracted enough by the possibility that she was mad to forget to glare. After a short pause he pointed up as well, then nodded at the branch he was sitting on. "Seto na?" 

"Yes!" she cried, elated at her success. "Yes, up. Why are you up there?" She waved her hands at the tree again. 

He now seemed quite convinced that she was mad, but shrugged his shoulders anyway. "Ako." Then, with a look of 'if you say so' on his face, he dropped from the tree, grabbed her by the waist, and leapt back up into it with her in tow. 

"What're you doing?!" Kagome screamed, clinging desperately to the branch beside him. She felt slightly faint--she was thirty feet up a maple tree, perched on a branch, next to a wild Indian savage with strange ears, strange eyes, and still no shirt. 

White-hair smirked at her loss of composure, mimicking her own hand gestures. "Ehet maye." Then, a carefully pronounced: "_Up_." 

Kagome faltered and clutched the bark in dismay. He'd interpreted her question as a request to be up in the tree. 

This wasn't going so well at all. 

The young girl clenched her eyes tightly together, taking several deep breaths to calm her shaken nerves. She opened them again and determinedly looked down to see how far up she was--and found that the day had gotten considerably brighter during their 'conversation.' Shafts of morning sunlight filtered through the leaves around her, spreading out in white curtains across the forest floor. From her vantage point she could make out the tribe stirring a short distance away, lighting cookfires and untying prisoners. It occurred to her that that's why he was up there--he was keeping lookout. Somehow the observation calmed her, maybe because he was showing some real concern for the other people. She had forgotten that she was captured not only by an Indian, but by the apparent leader of this war party. 

At some point her gaze must have drifted to the strange-eared man, because White-hair noticed her eyes on him and the scowl abruptly returned. "Baha kot, chi'taio," he growled. Without any sort of warning he then leapt out of the tree, disappearing through the branches. 

"Wait," Kagome pleaded, panicking. "Wait--don't leave me up here!" He returned several minutes later however, bringing a birch-bark container of ground cornmeal and berries that was baked into something rather like bread but not quite. It was still warm; he must have gone to the cookfires to get it. 

"Thank you," she blinked in surprise, both relieved and grateful. He only rolled his eyes and glared impatiently. Nothing more was said as she ate, but the moment she finished a dangerous smirk flashed across his face. That was her only notice before he grabbed her again and dove from the tree as fast as he'd carried her into it. 

The march was about to begin. 

--------- 

"Het! Mara-ro sai, squaw. Het, het!" Inuyasha glared mercilessly at the girl and gave her a shove, wishing that he could will her away with the power of that glare alone. His captive stumbled forward and gave him a blank look. The hanyou sighed and repeated the command. "Het." She finally seemed to get the message, because she turned back around and picked up pace. Honestly, he was afraid he'd have to carry her again she was so slow. 

They had packed up and set out soon after dawn, beginning the long, long walk back to the tribe's village. It would take many days, perhaps even weeks to get there with this many captives. He had not said another word to the girl that had ended up as his charge, just pointed at the other Englishmen marching and given her a scathing look. He'd then ignored her from that point on, following close behind; except when she was lagging. 

The entire tribe was talking about it, and he seethed quietly. For the first time, their mysterious, solitary leader had taken a captive. And it had more than gotten their attention--he could hear their blatant speculations while they walked, as much as they tried to conceal them. He had led every war party for years, yet, unusually, had never taken prisoners like most and always vehemently refused to; surely then, they reasoned openly, he must favor this girl. The talk centered about her almost as much as him. 

_Stupid wench_, he cursed inwardly. _Stupid, stupid brainless wench. I'll kill Miroku when I get my claws on him. I'll kill him._ As if on cue, the dark-haired Indian glanced over at him from the other side of the crowd--he had the good sense at least to stay away right now. Inuyasha glared murderously back at him and Miroku quickly looked away, but not before letting his eyes pause appreciatively on the girl. Which only riled the hanyou's blood further. 

Alright; so it wasn't really the English girl's fault that he'd torched her house, or that he was then the only one capable of getting her out of it safely, but that didn't make the situation any less infuriating and he had to take it out on someone. Now he was stuck with one of those arrogant, savage human invaders. 

He didn't trust them. At all. 

He didn't even like associating closely with people on a normal basis, close as he felt to the tribe; social interaction made him uncomfortable. He walked alone. And now this..what the hell was he supposed to do with a foreign girl? 

But he was stuck with it. For once he wished the tribal laws were different, because they were why he had so staunchly argued against getting her, why he wanted Miroku to do it, and why he couldn't just pass her on to anybody else or get rid of her. It was tradition: the first to touch a captive owns them. In other cases it prevented disputes over who was who's, but in his case it stuck him with this unwanted burden. Damn it all. 

His attention was brought back to the journey as he noticed the girl trying to say something to another Englishwoman crunching through the leaves near her. Surprisingly, the older woman gave the girl a contemptuous look and moved further away, causing the hanyou to lift an eyebrow in puzzlement. Why would the others avoid his captive? 

He decided to dismiss it as foreign human irrationality, and went back to studiously ignoring her. But now she soon caught his attention a second time: she had slowed down again. 

Shaking his head, he made a few quick bounds and was striding alongside her, glaring suspiciously. But she didn't notice; her eyes were downcast, looking sadly at the ground as she walked. Almost depressed. Inuyasha was startled; whatever the other woman said had obviously upset her more than he'd thought. 

Having no idea what to do in this situation, he lightly tapped her shoulder to get her attention. She jumped and looked at him with wide, fearful eyes. Relaxing only slightly when she recognized the white-haired man, her expression turned to one of confusion. 

"Het, squaw," he said firmly, pointing ahead. 

The girl's face fell a little, and she stopped walking. Now what? Narrowing his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak-when she held up a hand for him to wait. 

"Kagome," she said slowly and deliberately, pointing at herself. Inuyasha blinked. _Hn? Ah... That must be her name. _She must have known or figured out what 'squaw' meant, and wanted to be called by her own name. Something made him bristle inwardly though. _Well, she doesn't have to say it like I'm stupid._ Of course, that might have something to do with the tree incident, but.. that was beside the point. He was just testing her then. 

Well...and amusing himself. 

The hanyou folded his arms and smirked, mischief in those golden eyes: "Squaw." 

The girl shook her head emphatically, acting like a mother or a schoolteacher. "Ka-go-me." 

"Squaw." He grinned. 

"Ka-go-me." 

"Squaw." 

"Kagome!" 

"Squaw." 

The girl--Kagome--stopped, and looked at him critically, her gray eyes unsure. Realizing she was being played with, she threw up her hands in frustration and began stalking away angrily, heading after the main group. Who had all stopped to discreetly watch the scene, but now found random leaves on the ground or birds in the sky to be strangely fascinating. 

So caught up in getting away from him that she wasn't looking, Kagome stumbled over a gnarled oak root and fell--and found herself abruptly in his arms as he leapt forward and caught her. 

Inuyasha felt her stiffen against him and heard her sharp intake of breath, but simply stood her back upright, gently, and let her go. That was when he noticed the tears in her eyes. 

And a pang of guilt held him frozen while she brushed herself off, and gave him a small, surprising smile. She quickly rubbed away the tears and trotted off after the others again, leaving him standing there. 

All his anger and mistrust of the girl was suspended momentarily; he had made her cry. Had he really been that rough? After all, she hadn't asked for this. He felt like a savage, like what everyone made him and his people out to be. He felt, for the first time in years, bad. 

The moment passed swiftly and his scowl returned, but the feeling lingered long after, haunting his thoughts as they walked through the waning day. 

Why did he feel so bad? 

---------- 

A/N: Argh, this chapter gave me so much trouble. Couldn't get it to go right no matter what I did, maybe because it was just setting up character interactions, development, etc and stuff (have to pace things carefully), or simply because I have been running on three hours of sleep a night for a straight week. But I'm at least satisfied now. Hopefully it was okay; sorry again! ;_; *cringes and runs* 


	4. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Ugh! Midterms, bane of my life! Sorry and sorry again, I expected to be done with this so much sooner, but lo and behold, the demons of higher education concocted a dastardly plan to try and stop me in my tracks: exams. I'm so sorry for the delay; hopefully it'll have been worth the wait. I still think I could've made this chapter better, but that'd mean rewriting it again--so I hope its okay. ^_^;; Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful replies! They're such a joy to read, and they give me the confidence I lack to put up the next part. ^_^; As for questions: yes, Souta will be in this, and Shippou and Sango; I've already worked out their appearances. ^_^ There are a few others planned, but I'm still working out kinks in their roles. We'll see what happened to her mom, and as for where I got the words..ah, I must shamefully admit that I made them up. ^_^;; I don't know any real Indian language and couldn't possibly claim to, so I did my own because I need the effect--just like Kagome can't understand, neither does the reader! I'm not just smashing the keyboard though; believe it or not, in my own strange mind I actually know exactly what he's saying, and repeat words and phrases where they apply again (sorta like what Tolkien did..only less organized). Thus, as Kagome recognizes a couple of simple things, like Het=hurry up, everyone else does too (at least I hope so..). Worry not though, I'm not here to make you learn an imaginary language, its all just for effect. I'm so glad people are liking the language barrier thing though, I wasn't sure how it would be taken-and don't worry, the barrier *will* be overcome, and soon. Hopefully you won't all hit me when I reveal how. ^_^;; 

Disclaimer: Inuyasha is mine in spirit and indulgent fantasy, but alas, not in copyright. ;_; I claim only the original aspects of the fic, and give credit to the existing peoples/events that some of it is loosely based on (and I apologize again for anything offensive; I'm trying to avoid stereotype, but it's a lot harder than it looks. I concede that it may not be totally accurate, but, well..it's a fic. Don't hurt me. ;-; ). 

Chapter Four: 

"So, White-hair, where are we going?" Kagome asked tiredly, a strained look in her eyes. "Because I'm almost starting to wish we'd just get there and get this over with." 

For seven days it had rained, not hard but a cold, constant drizzle--the sort of rain that let the chill seep into you so deep it ran through your marrow. The march had not slowed one bit; they stopped to rest only at midday for meals and at night for sleep. Her hair was damp, her skirt and boots muddy from sloshing through wet leaves, she felt miserable in every possible way. But what bothered her most of all really was the uneasy silence that had fallen over the camp. 

Or rather, that had fallen around her and her alone. 

The other townspeople had formed loose groups and talked amongst themselves, but they turned silent when she approached, and the natives kept an almost respectful distance. Except for White-hair, of course, who just plain ignored her. 

Several heads turned at the sound of her voice, but the golden-eyed man in question looked steadfastly ahead and refused to even acknowledge her presence. She held back a sigh. It didn't matter that she couldn't understand him or he her, she just..she just wanted to hear another voice, to not feel so alone. She was walking in a group crammed full of people, yet was completely isolated from all of them, and the silence was getting to her. She almost wished he'd yell at her again--at least then he treated her like she was worthy of his attention. 

"Really?" she said abruptly on a whim, continuing in a conversational tone. Anything was better than the silence, even her own voice, and she was bored. "That's fascinating. So, what do you think of the weather?" Before he could answer--not that he would anyway--she made a sympathetic sound and nodded. "I don't like it either. You know, Whitey, if you hadn't burned down my house we could be nice and dry right now. But I suppose there's no use crying over singed homes." 

She may have been imagining it, but White-hair's shoulders seemed to tense a little. But he gave no indication otherwise that he even knew she was there, not even a flick of his odd ears. Several more people were looking now though, including several townspeople--she smirked inwardly at that. Ha, they already thought she was a crazy witch, might as well give them reason to. She'd reached the point where she didn't care what anyone thought about her anymore. 

And teasing her silent captor without him knowing it was, she had to admit, fun stress relief. 

"It really was a nice house though; one of the first homes in town with a second floor when it was built. What's your house like, White-hair? Not that I'm planning on burning it down or anything." Pause. "Well, maybe. But I'm sure you'll kill me first, so there's really no point in speculating about it." She grimaced at that unpleasant train of thought and decided to change subjects; all the other people had turned away huffily by now, but she continued thinking aloud, unable to hold back a small playful smile. "But enough about me, lets talk about you. We need to have a discussion about your blatant lack of a shirt. Really, if you can't afford one I'd be glad to lend you some money. Except my money was in the house. Drat. But still, you have an awful lot of nerve sleeping next to me without a shirt like that." A very unladylike thought occurred about sleeping next to shirtless men and she repressed it swiftly. It was still rude. "I notice plenty of other nice Indian men have shirts. Why can't you?" 

Briefly she wondered why he wasn't cold, and found herself staring at the raindrops glistening in his snowy hair and down his back ahead of her. And at those ears again; they were twitching, just slightly, following the sounds of branches cracking underfoot and animals calling each other through the trees, of people talking and clothes rustling. They were turning every which way, it seemed, except towards her. Maybe deliberately. 

She succumbed to a sigh and gave up her game, realizing it was pointless. "I guess it was a stupid idea," she muttered to herself half-heartedly. "It's too bad though.. I didn't even get to the part about your cute little ears." She shook her head in mock-disappointment, though she really was a little disappointed that it had failed. 

White-hair's ears jerked back and he stopped and turned around slowly to face her, giving her a strange look. "..Seto na?" 

Kagome froze, stunned--she had gotten his attention. That was the first thing he'd spoken in days, other than 'Kyeh, kyeh' and the accursed 'Het, squaw.' They stared at each other in silence for a moment. "I was just, uh.." she fumbled for words in her surprise, trying to figure out what she had said that was important. Especially considering he couldn't understand her. "I was just talking about your ears." 

To her undying amazement, the Indian blinked his golden eyes, took a flustered step back, and blushed. 

Kagome took a step back as well, startled, and could only stare as her captor tried to compose himself helplessly, still blushing. That was when she heard a muffled snickering from behind, and she spun around to find that all the tribesmen within hearing range were barely able to contain themselves. Especially that dark-haired one from before. Oh yes, he was doubling over with laughter. 

"'Aye wa jusuto taw'te-i amou sor heers'," one of the Indians gasped quietly between laughs, setting off another round of smothered snickers. She frowned slightly in confusion. She knew they were speaking in their own language, but with their accent it _sounded_ almost like what she had.. she blinked several times and flushed. Oh good lord. 

Apparently, in native tongue, she had just something very, very naughty. 

At this point the still-flustered White-hair finally noticed his tribe's amusement, and his expression darkened. Rounding about, he silenced them all with that amber glare, letting it pause significantly on her. It didn't have quite the same scathing effect as before though, probably because he was still blushing. It changed his whole countenance and made him look rather, she thought oddly, like a miffed puppy. 

"S-so ahu," he stammered, grasping for words and growling in frustration, "mehet nai, squaw. Kaiyo chi'taio." At everyone's continued stares, he narrowed his eyes and spun around. "Feh!" And with that he stormed off, leaping swiftly past the tribe and through the trees. He disappeared far ahead before she could even react. 

Kagome stood quietly for a minute, feeling slightly guilty and embarrassed. She hadn't meant to say something dirty--whatever it was that she said. She really wished she knew. Now it seemed she had humiliated both herself and her captor in front of the whole tribe. 

Thunder growled low in the distance, and the rain began to thicken. She sighed and hefted up her sodden skirt, not wanting to get left behind and lost. As if she wasn't already alone enough; now she'd even chased White-hair away. Much as he seemed to hate her, he was all the company she had. 

She felt..rejected. 

Something bumped into her from behind suddenly, causing her to stumble forward. At first she thought it was her captor come back to het-het her along faster again, and was torn between relief and panic. 

It all gave way to confusion though when the person backed up and hurriedly apologized--and it was a girl. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the stranger said, brushing a wet lock of hair off her face. "I didn't mean to--I tripped on my skirt." The girl scratched her head sheepishly. "I suppose it wasn't meant for this kind of travel." 

"It's alright," Kagome said quickly, more surprised by being talked to than by being pushed. The girl looked to be about her age, with long dark hair held up and auburn eyes, and was obviously an Englishwoman like her. But Kagome didn't recognize her, and it seemed that she didn't recognize Kagome either--for which she was glad. "Mine isn't in much better condition." She gestured at the soggy swath of cloth with a cautious smile. "It's times like these I almost wish I could wear men's breeches." 

"Wouldn't that be something?" the girl laughed, and Kagome decided right then that she liked her. The stranger's grin faded though suddenly, and she hesitated, a worried look crossing her eyes. "Say, would you..would you happen to have seen a young boy by the name of Kohaku? He has dark hair and freckles." She looked at the ground while she explained. "He's my brother..I lost him during the attack. I want to know if he was taken too, or hurt in the fire, or if he got away." Her voice grew pained. "I hope he got away." 

Kagome shook her head. "I haven't seen any boys with freckles..I'm sure he made it out." She smiled reassuringly. "I've been looking for my mother..she..she looks a lot like me, but shorter hair. Have you seen her?" 

The stranger shook her head and looked at the ground again. The rain picked up more, as if responding to the lonely, lonely silence. 

"It's strange," Kagome said suddenly and quietly as they walked, earning a glance from the other girl. The past week with White-hair had given her an uncanny skill for reading expressions. "I don't know how to feel. I--I know I should be glad that she's not here, and I am. It means there's still a chance she got away. But at the same time I miss her, and I'm alone, and I'm scared, and I wish she was here so I could run to her and have her somehow make everything alright again. But she can't. And at the same time still, there's the pain of not knowing--I just wish there was some way to know that she's alright, that she made it out of the fire and is safe somewhere. I suppose that's all I want, really. That and I'm homesick." She laughed nervously, rubbing her hands absently against the cold with a somewhat sad smile. "Does it feel something like that?" 

The girl lifted her head and looked at her through the rain, then nodded and smiled softly. A moment of quiet understanding passed between the two, a bond of shared empathy, and it comforted them. And it gave them some hope. 

"I'm Sango," the girl said abruptly, her smile spreading into a broad lopsided grin. She held out her hand to shake. "Sango Taijya, from the east side of town." 

"Pleased to meet you," Kagome said, returning the friendly grin. "My name is Kagome." 

She realized her mistake right after she'd said it. 

"Wait a second.." Sango frowned slightly. "That sounds familiar." 

Panic rose in Kagome's throat at the same time as her stomach fell. She knew what was coming. _Uh oh._ "Really?" A nervous laugh escaped. "There must be someone else by the same name around, I'm sure it's quite common these days." She tried desperately to look as normal as possible. 

Alas, too late. 

"No--no, there was something important about it." The girl's frown deepened in puzzlement. "Wasn't there something going on in town about a girl named Kagome? Kagome..Himake, or Higurashi or something." 

Footsteps sloshing through the wet leaves were Kagome's only warning as a small cluster of townspeople rushed by her en masse, causing her to stumble down and scrape her leg. The way they tramped about as a mob would have been almost comical if they weren't tramping over her, really. 

"Sango, what are you doing over here! We warned you to stay close.." the old woman speaking threw a suspicious glance at Kagome as she sat dazedly on the ground, and lowered her voice to a whisper. The group had gathered protectively around her newfound friend-to-be; she supposed they had overheard them talking. And while she couldn't make out what the woman was whispering, it was fairly obvious that it wasn't pleasant. 

Sango's eyes suddenly widened, and the look she threw Kagome was full of confusion and disbelief. Before she could speak a word in her defense, the woman had taken Sango firmly by the arm and was pulling her away backwards, back to where the rest of the Englishmen were waiting anxiously. Kagome was finally left alone. Again. 

She looked after them without moving for a long moment, then got up, not caring about the mud and the scratches now decorating her legs. Maybe not even aware of them. She had thought for a moment that--maybe--but no, of course not. Everything always went away. 

Kagome felt drained, in so many ways--worn, tired of it. She almost felt like giving up. Things grew only worse and worse without letting up, and it was hard not to feel a little helpless, or a little hopeless. But instead, she wordlessly fell into line with the march, trudging alone through the rain. 

So lost in thought was she, that she never noticed the pair of eyes watching her through the trees. They watched like a cats eyes--focused, intrigued, with that quiet, unnatural intensity that few but a cat can achieve, though they did not belong to a cat. And while she did not notice the eyes, the eyes noticed her; they noticed the melancholy slump to her shoulders, the cuts on her legs, the empty expression, and they noticed the way everyone avoided her, even her own kind. The owner of the eyes considered all these things, and was profoundly confused. The eyes shone a puzzled gold in the shadows of the branches, and they wondered. 

Glancing about at the other captives, it was also noticed by that cat-like gaze that she was being given a very wide girth. The eyes frowned. Glancing back at the girl, it was noticed that she was lagging again, though she tried to keep up. The owner of the liquid amber stare made no motion for some time, though its thoughts were quick as river torrents and just as wild and aimless. 

Anger, for the moment, had been submerged by confusion and good dose of curiosity, with maybe a hint--just a hint, mind you--of compassion. 

Oh, feh. 

A part of Kagome heard something thud nearby in the soft, damp leaves, but the rest of her took no notice. Everything seemed dull and muddled, everything seemed so pointless. But her mind returned swiftly to reality when a strip of cloth thrust itself in front of her face. 

"Miyu set, squaw." 

With a surprised gasp she stepped back, and the cloth retreated from view until she could see the hand holding it--and a wave of white hair behind that, framing a piercing glare. 

Kagome froze, thinking he had come to confront her and vent his fury about earlier--surely he must still be angry after an episode like that. But he simply stood there and held out the cloth. If anything, he was trying to look bored. 

"That's--for me?" She indicated herself timidly, and he rolled his eyes like it was obvious. Startled, she blinked a few times. "But why?" 

"Hn?" 

"Why?" She pointed at the cloth and at herself, and shrugged. 

White-hair stared a moment, then snorted, blowing a few strands of snowy hair off his face. "Miyu, ka I yomin." He took the strip, wound it around his arm with large, exaggerated motions, then unwrapped it again and held it out. 

"I.." She took it and held it gently, trying to figure out the strange gift, and he pointed at her leg. Then it fell into place. "I--oh! This is supposed to be a bandage?" 

Her response was another snort, and he looked away. 

Kneeling, she pulled up her skirt slightly and winced at the sight of her bloody leg--she hadn't realized she'd scratched it up that bad. None of them were that deep, but that didn't mean they couldn't get infected. She carefully wrapped the cloth around and tied it off neatly, watching him the whole time. The caring gesture had caught her by such surprise that she didn't know how to react. When she finished, she got up and moved around into his field of vision. He scowled and looked away in the other direction. 

"I know you can't understand me," she said, "but--I'm sorry about earlier. And..thank you." 

Even if he had understood, she had the feeling he wouldn't have let it show. But he glanced at her with one eye under those snowy white bangs, pointed in the direction of the tribe, and with a slight smirk on his lips, proclaimed: "Het!" 

"Yes, sir," she said. Then it was his turn to be surprised again, because she smiled at him, and kept on smiling as she set off at a quick trot after the others. Wearing a look of supreme indignation, he folded his arms and fell in beside her. 

When they rejoined the group, he didn't say another word and didn't look at her once, but kept perfect pace by her side, step for step. He matched her so perfectly that when they halted for the night by a riverbank and she stopped, he didn't even overstep, but stopped at the same precise moment. He then left and returned with food. 

Somehow, she had earned her captors attention--heck, even if he still didn't like her, it was some small symbol that at least she was worthy of not liking--and that was a step upwards. And strange as it was, it was perhaps just what she most needed to snap herself out of her downward cycle. He hadn't walked away. 

And that's what she was really smiling about. 

-------------- 

Thunder awoke Kagome that night with a deafening clap, and she shrieked and grabbed hold of White-hair's arm. The steady rain that had plagued them for days had finally broken into a storm, and by the sheets of water sluicing down through the trees, it was going to be a deluge. 

It took her a few moments to catch her breath from the fright, during which she realized she was thoroughly soaked. She looked at White-hair and found that he was already awake, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. 

"Sorry," she said, letting go of his arm. He shook himself like a dog and got up, ears twitching, and that's when she heard faint sounds through the rain of people talking frantically and moving. 

White-hair frowned slightly. "Kyeh," he told her, and bounded off swiftly through the curtain of rain, heading towards the rest of the tribe. He quickly disappeared in the downpour, and she was left with nothing but the harsh sound of trees moaning in the wind and the rain. 

Feeling the cold, Kagome shivered and pulled the blanket they had been lying on over her head; even if it was already wet, it would keep out the rest of the water. She then stood up and listened, perfectly still. The rain muffled everything like a heavy cloth, but between claps of thunder she could make out shouting, and she imagined that she could hear White-hair issuing orders. 

She suddenly felt scared, standing there alone in the dark and the rain, and was torn by her desire to go to him and see what was happening, and to stay right here like he had said. But she wasn't stupid enough to go running about blindly in the dark and get herself lost or struck by lightning. That was just asking for it. Minutes passed though, and she began to worry; what was happening over there? Was everyone alright? What could be keeping him? She couldn't hear anything over the screaming wind now, and the rain whipped down so fast it almost stung. 

And then, ominously, something groaned behind her. Not the groan of an animal or a person, but the deep, slow, wrenching groan of wood breaking. She spun, seeing the tree begin to sway and splinter under the weight of the storm, and hearing a sudden, shattering crack. Horrified, she bolted out of the way and felt the ground shudder beneath her when it fell. She slid to the ground against the trunk of another tree and panted, looking at the dark form lying across where she had just been. 

The skies thundered and she jumped up again, ready to skitter away at the slightest sound. The wind picked up too, building into a steady roar, and she decided that maybe she had better get away from the trees. Now. 

Clutching the blanket to her like it was something sacred, she made her way through the dark towards where she had last heard the others--but the rain only grew louder the closer she got, drowning out all sounds to guide her. It grew louder than rain should have been able to, in fact, and it shifted from the steady patter of water on leaves to a constant rushing.. 

The river. 

"Oh no," Kagome said to herself and stopped right where she stood--because in the same moment that she identified the sound of the river, she had reached the end of the trees. Which could only mean she had reached the bank; and it would be all too easy to slip in the dark and fall into the cold, unforgiving waters. _Okay, don't panic, just stay here and wait for White-hair. Don't panic._

She waited for the next flash of lightning so she could see just how close she was. And when it came, she knew what the shouting was about. 

The river, swollen from all the recent rain, had flooded its banks. And the far part of the tribe had camped too close to the waters edge; the ground had turned to mud and slid beneath their feet towards the river. Everyone was rushing to move people and supplies out of the way. White-hair had taken charge, as always, and was giving out commands, carrying twice as much as any other Indian. And then the flash ended, and she was in darkness again. But now at least she knew she was close to them. 

She knelt down in the mud and leaned against a broken trunk, not daring to move. She was close to the river too, too close. As in, mere feet away. In a normal river she could swim, but this? Might as well tie weights to her legs and make it quick. 

With her luck being what it was, she thought miserably, she was staying put. If she walked away she'd probably get turned around in the dark and fall right into it. And the bank was too steep and too slippery right now to climb. No, Kagome definitely wasn't going to tempt fate. 

But fate, alas, has a way of being so sadistically cruel sometimes. 

For that too steep and too slippery bank was being worn away beneath all too fast by the violent, rushing waters. And after only a short while, she felt the muck beneath her shift slightly. Uncertainly, she got to her feet, her movements wary. _Please, please no._ In the near-complete darkness, she could see just barely that the waterline had risen again. Perhaps it was time to move after all. 

She took a few cautious steps up the incline, breathed a sigh of relief when she could make out the thick net of trees, and let out a shriek for the second time that night when the ground beneath her gave way. Like a miniature mudslide, or an iceberg breaking away, it crumbled and melted into the river. It took her with it so swift and so fluidly that there wasn't so much as a splash. 

And so, the shriek was all that White-hair heard. 

------------- 

Authors note: I know, I know, it sucked. ;-; My lame attempts at humor, and my shamefully obvious maneuver to separate them from the group. Aren't we all just a little curious as to what she inadvertently said though? ^_^ Keeping them in character is quite trying sometimes, especially with their unusual situations/backgrounds..apologies for any lameness. Comments and critiques are more than welcome, and thank you for reading! ^^ 


	5. Chapter Five

A.N: Gah, sorry! Forgive me for this chapter taking so long, but everything that could go wrong, has. I'm really, really sorry for the delay..I tried as hard as I could. But things are so hectic--I've been working full-time, visiting family, plus personal problems. Despite all that, I still found time to write--namely by forgoing sleep. But no matter what I did, I *couldn't* make this chapter come out right. It was killing me! I think it's because I really wanted to do Inu's thoughts, since I don't think I've really gotten in his head yet (since I have to take his situation into account, like being a leader and all). This chapter has received four full rewrites: that's right, four. And I still think it sucks! ;-; But sucky or not, I finally forced myself to cut the rewrites and finish. ^_^;; Just to warn you, I step back several minutes from where the last chapter left off, to show Inu's point of view through the storm..his thoughts're kinda all over the place. Its probably really bad. ;-; 

Anyway, thank you all *so* much for your wonderful reviews! They're an absolute joy to read, I still can't believe this fic has gotten such good response so far. *is amazed every time she checks here* And thank you also to everyone who emailed me and IM'd me; not only did it encourage me to pick up the pace, but sometimes your comments helped me through the rough sections in this chapter. In other words, thank you everyone! ^_^; (oh--some people said in the reviews that they were having trouble sending mail, especially with files (fanart? *eyes light up happily* I love art! ^^;; ). For a long time I had been having email problems, so now I've got a completely new address and that seems to have fixed the problem. If you're still having trouble, let me know in a reply and I'll figure out another way somehow. ^^;; ) 

Disclaimer: I own a dream I had the other day about Inu coming to visit in my dorm and going to the showers with me. ^_^ But, alas, I own no copyrights. ;-; 

Chapter Five: 

_This,_ Inuyasha thought ruefully, _was why I hadn't wanted a prisoner._

The whole situation made him want to bite something. Not because he was angry, no--perhaps if he had minded the rain he would have been a bit more irritated by the whole debacle: after all, it wasn't exactly a brilliant idea for half the tribe to lay their blankets down on the collapsing bank of an overflowing river in the middle of a howling tempest. No, what bothered him..was that it should never have happened at all. 

And it was his fault that it did. 

Tucking a roll of damp blankets under his arm, the half-spirit began one last round through the recovering camp, stalking as though he could out-pace his own thoughts. _How could I have been so blasted careless? How? _ Near he could still hear the steady, low rushing roar of the river lashing at its banks like a mad, caged animal, ready to break out, _alive_, and it only amplified his guilt. Half his tribe almost drowned tonight, and now he was leaving his captive alone in the rain while he rescued them. Under any other circumstance, their idiocy in campsite-choice would have been their fault and their fault alone, but this was not any other circumstance. This was a war party: even with the fighting over, it was still a war party. And he was the war leader. So until they reached home, he was responsible for anything and everything that happened. 

It didn't matter to Inuyasha that the tribe didn't blame him--if anything, they were quite grateful for his rescue. What mattered was his conscience blamed him. If just a one had fallen in, the unwelcome voice lurking at the edge of his awareness reminded, the river would have pulled them under and swallowed them whole. And whose fault would it be, hmm? 

_Damn it, conscience, you're supposed to be on my side. _

It would be all Inuyashas fault, it would. 

_Traitor. _

It would be his fault because, had he been paying attention like he _should_ have, he could have prevented it. Why hadn't he taken the time to look properly, why? Why oh why hadn't he hell-be-damned noticed? 

Oh, he knew why. He had let himself get distracted. Stupidly. His thoughts weren't where they should have been--it alarmed him how much that was happening these days. 

Which brought him right back to why he was feeling so bloody bad. 

He sighed and cursed himself as he finished his head count of the tribe--cursed himself for not doing better and making sure they didn't, in their exhaustion, make a mishap like this. For not being the responsible leader they all looked up to and expected of him. He cursed himself thrice-fold and twelve ways to Tuesday. 

And he cursed _her_ for distracting him. 

Her. Infuriating, frustrating, intriguing, baffling, confusing, aggravating, fascinating her. The girl he had rescued, or captured; put it either way. The conundrum that was Kagome. This whole big mess was all her fault, Inuyasha sulked as he walked. Completely her fault--how dare she be in his head all the time! 

..Fine, so maybe it wasn't entirely her fault. But that didn't stop her from being mad at her, he thought stubbornly, and righteously so. Hmph. She deserved a good soak in the rain, that'd put her in her place. 

He certainly didn't feel bad about it. 

Not in the least. 

.. Stupid conscience. 

The sudden image his thoughts conjured of her curled in a pale, miserable, shivering heap in the rain brought another unwelcome pang of guilt to the forefront of his mind, stronger than before. He sighed again, for what must have been the millionth time that night. She must be freezing by now, he thought. He'd had to leave her all alone to go help the tribe, and now he was wishing he hadn't. The storm didn't faze him a bit, but the girl had been looking weaker and weaker..she probably wasn't handling it as well as he was. He just hoped she had the good sense to stay put and wait for him to return. 

_Stay there, girl,_ he urged silently. _Just a little longer and I'll be back. Don't do anything stupid._ He'd even found the last half-dry roll of blankets in the whole camp to take back to her--that ought to make up for things, he reasoned, pleased. Maybe even cheer her up a bit: blankets made everyone happy. Well.. they made him happy at least. She had still been very quiet since that afternoon, and while at first he'd disliked her constant babble, now he wanted it back just so he'd know she was alright. 

This Kagome was quite possibly the most confusing, baffling creature he'd set eyes on in his life. At first, she had enraged him. Then she had alternately irritated and amused him, and, finally, it had settled down to a reasonable level of irk. But he found that irk being displaced more and more of late by quiet puzzlement, which at some point had, against his will, turned into..curiosity. Why, he'd spent the entire day just watching her and trying to figure her out. 

_Which_, he frowned, _ is what I'd been doing instead of paying attention to the stupid tribe. Agh! _ This is why he'd never wanted prisoners --he had enough to deal with already. Too much to handle; how was he going to take care of her? Everything was already in a big ugly knot--because of the girl, he'd neglected the tribe. And then, when he goes to the tribe, he neglects the girl. Which in a way was worse..she depended entirely on him until they reached the village. 

He'd..never had anyone depend on him before. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. It made him nervous, and Inuyasha didn't like being edgy. He generally just channeled it into anger, but being angry at the girl somehow wasn't as satisfying as it should have been. 

Maybe, his conscience suggested, he should stop blaming her for things? 

_Bah--enough of this_, he cut off his own thoughts, shaking water out of his hair with a frown. It was getting him nowhere. He was doing it again--letting her distract him. That had caused enough trouble already tonight. Honestly, he should be happy: tribe was safe, girl was safe, prisoners were safe--miserable but safe, and he was sure they'd needed a good bath anyway--and he still had those blankets. 

His ears pricked suddenly. Cloth swishing, footsteps, heavy breathing. The clinking of talismans hung on a staff. 

"I know that you're there, Miroku," he said blandly, not looking back or slowing. The young shaman threw up his hands in defeat and jogged to catch up with the prowling half-spirit, and when he did he pushed his dripping wet bangs off his forehead and smiled. 

"Hello there, Inuyasha." He paused to listen the tell-tale flapping of the thunderbirds wings, the sky rumbling overhead. Then he continued on cheerfully, as oblivious to Inuyasha's glare as he was to the downpour. "How are things going with your new friend?" 

"I'm still not speaking to you." 

"And you're doing a very good job of it," Miroku said, nodding sagely. Inuyasha, affronted, opened his mouth to respond ..then shut it quickly. Miroku chuckled. "Say now," his glance flicked down to the bundle in the others arms, "could I have one of those blankets? There's a very pretty girl who--" 

"No." Inuyasha clutched his prized blankets tighter. 

"You should really give me the silent treatment more often; it makes you more talkative," he mused aloud, shaking his head with a sigh. He turned and waved his hand at the waterfalls running off the trees down on them, at the river come alive down the slope, and at the ankle-deep puddles they were slogging through. "Oh, come now--it's not like you need them, you don't even get cold! The way you prance about in the middle of a flood like this, one would think you were half duck spirit." 

Clenching his jaws, Inuyasha said nothing. 

"Ah--" the shaman's grin widened, realization dawning in his eyes. "Unless, of course, the blankets are for someone else?" Miroku clapped his hands in delight when Inuyasha's petulant silence seemed to answer for him. "My, my. My indeed--I never thought I'd see the day. Are you _softening_, Inuyasha?" 

Snorting, the half-spirit rolled his eyes and with a slow, exaggerated deliberateness, shook his wet white hair out all over the shaman like the dog he half-was. A useless gesture, sure, since the rain had soaked them both long before, but it was the principle of the damned thing that counted. The playful banter between the two had become a tradition of sorts, and each constantly drove to get one up on the other; it had been that way for years. What was a fight on the surface was, strangely, their way of getting along. It was like a game. 

Sometimes, though, Miroku went a bit too far. This was to be one of those times. He was touching on a subject that Inuyasha carefully trying to avoid right now, the girl. Further, he seemed to be making fun of Inuyasha's gift. Which meant he was poking the white-haired indian's already precarious mood with a flaming stick: sooner or later, he'd strike a spark. 

"Why, I believe you are!" Miroku sang happily, doing a pirouette in the mud. "Mighty war leader spirit Inuyasha has a soft spot. Soon you'll be making puppy-eyes at your enemies instead of fighting them--forgive the pun." Flashing the half-spirit a cheeky smile, he tapped Inuyasha on the nose with his staff and then skipped ahead just out of reach, twirling it in his hand. "I can see it now! First its bringing blankets to lovely strangers, then, who knows? Helping people _without_ complaining?" He put his hand to his heart in mock-disbelief, then looked about conspiratorially and winked, as though imparting a great secret. "Yes, you're definitely softening, my friend. But don't worry, I won't tell." 

Inuyasha was sorely tempted to break that staff in half. 

Continuing his impromptu little dance, Miroku swaggered ahead, chuckling to the waterlogged night. Eventually, though, he settled down again, and fell back along the half-spirit's side. Inuyasha growled, telling the shaman with his eyes that if he made one wrong move he'd find himself dancing in the river, but Miroku wasn't impressed. It seemed though that the shaman had finally decided to let the subject alone, to Inuyasha's relief. The two continued in silence down the sloping bank, the heavy rain drowning out all sounds but its own steady fall. 

Then, all innocence and solemn seriousness, Miroku gave a sidelong glance and added: "I knew a good woman was all you needed." 

Spark. 

_Too far. _

The turtle that supports the world on its marbled back would have cowered and sunk beneath the waves had Inuyasha's glare been directed at it, but instead his half-lidded stare was focused with deadly intensity on Miroku. 

As it was, Miroku merely blinked and put on a blithe smile. 

"You," Inuyasha said, coming to a halt and glowering down at the shaman with eyes of angry amber, "Are dead. But before I take that pretty little ponytail of yours and hang it by your bloody scalp on a pole, just tell me this: What the hell kind of malignant, unholy deity have I offended?" His movements were tense, abrupt--he was fighting to keep them under control. "Because I swear, I must be pissing off at least _one_ of them!" 

Turning, the half-spirit stalked away several paces and stopped, tightening his fists and growling under his breath. Miroku waited patiently, and the half-spirit finally spun around in frustration and ran a hand through his soaking hair, sighing heavily. "Everything that could have gone wrong, has gone wrong, and more. Hell--the only thing keeping me from just throwing myself in the damned river right now is the fact that at least things couldn't possibly, _possibly_ get worse! " 

The gods of irony, hearing this, took up the challenge. 

For unbeknownst to Inuyasha, a certain girl had been standing a mere dozen yards away or so for their entire conversation; though she was unaware of their presence as well. The certain girl's human hearing was drowned away by the rain and wind's snarling, and it was the same rain that kept the half-spirit from having scented her. It was a situation of impossible coincidence and cruel, cruel irony. Had they only known, what followed could perhaps have been prevented. But they didn't. 

And so it was at that precise, unlikely moment that she fell in. 

The choked, strangled shriek that reached Inuyasha's ears made him stop at once and hold his breath, flooding his blood with ice water. A shriek of surprise and pure, unfiltered fear, one that cut off far too quick. And the voice..was familiar. Too familiar. He knew that voice. 

_Oh no. _

"What? What is it?" Miroku asked, a frown slipping over his face as he took a step towards the half-spirit, but Inuyasha barely heard him. His golden eyes glazed over like breath on a windowpane, ears pricked high and twitching violently like those of a rabbit who had just heard the fox. _Oh no, no_. It couldn't be--it just couldn't. He'd left her back in the trees-- 

--Why was her voice coming from the river? 

Instinct sent him suddenly running, and he had reached the waters edge before his mind caught up with his reflexes. He crouched on an overhang leaning over the water, scanning the surface desperately for any sign, any trace-- 

There. A flash of pale skin against the blackness of the swollen river. Then the dark waters swirled and churned and it was gone, as though it had never been at all. _She..she fell in._

For the first in a very, very long time, Inuyasha felt the grip of panic. 

_Idiot! No!_

In one liquid, graceful movement, he threw the blankets aside, pushed off from the crumbling riverbank, and glided in an arc through the air. Then he plunged into the roiling, frothing waters, and all was darkness and ice and rush. The water was so cold it forced the air from his lungs, and he literally clawed his way up to breath. The current was dragging him downstream, and as it wound down through the land it seemed intent on pulling him down to the bottom as well; his deerskin pants were suddenly heavy and slow, and he was glad he wasn't wearing a shirt or moccasins. 

Sucking in a sharp breath of air and water as he breached the surface, the rain whipping and sleeting down so hard and the spray so thick that he could barely tell he wasn't still underwater, he treaded. Strained to see over the water. Then gritted his teeth, took another starving breath, faced downstream, and dove under again. 

This time he had some control. He was moving with the current--it was helping him. The shock of the biting cold had worn off fast; he was as hot-blooded as he was hot-headed. Opening his golden eyes, he hung suspended in the murkish water, strands of ghostly white hair floating about his face. Yes, he could see better down here--up above the spray was blinding, now his unnaturally piercing vision cut through the underwater gloom. 

Focusing, he narrowed his eyes and shot forward with powerful strokes. If he'd been anywhere else at the time, Miroku's little duck spirit comment would have almost come back to mind--accompanied by the most violent, blood-boiling cursing known to man, courtesy of himself, of course--but when Inuyasha focused, it was with the intensity of a spirit..a predator. It was consuming. Complete. 

He nearly collided with the billowing mass of cloth, hair, and drowning girl before he realized what it was. 

His heart caught. The form drifting in the water seemed so..so still. Then, a sudden movement--and he nearly let out his breath in stunned relief. And..surprise. 

She was still conscious. 

That she was alive amazed him, that she was still conscious put him beyond words. That shouldn't have been possible. But his relief and gratitude was short lived--she was sinking like dead weight. Fast. The girl wasn't even struggling anymore, wasn't trying to swim, wasn't trying to reach the surface at all. She was curled over, her face hidden by her hair. But her hands were doing something; trying to tear her own dress. 

Inuyasha acted at once, without even thinking; he swam the last few feet and grabbed her around the waist, turning in the water and hauling up. The river resisted, holding fast to her dress with its claws, the fabric phenomenally, unimaginably heavy with the weight of the water dragging her down. The girl was much smarter than he'd given her credit for..she wasn't trying to swim because she knew that she couldn't. Not with that ridiculous lot of cloth pulling her back. 

But that held Inuyasha back for no more than a moment; he just growled and kicked harder, bursting to the surface while holding her tightly to his chest. She gasped, coughing up volumes of water, and took several deep, shaky breaths. He simply held her still and above the water, silently watching while she drank the air like a starving woman. He felt her whole body trembling in his arms. 

"Don't worry," he said, choking around a mouthful of water, "I've got you." It wasn't until then that she opened her eyes, turning her head. Gray-blue irises met those of amber, glazed over in shock--and then the moment of recognition. Her eyes widened, surprise flashing across. Then with a small cry, Kagome threw her arms around his shoulders and clung to him, burying her face in his ivory hair. 

He tightened his hold on her, afraid she might tremble right out of his arms and be swept away. And he looked around for a bank to climb, swimming towards a dark shape stretching along the side of the river. He reached it, grabbed it with one hand to pull them up--and found the slick mud clay giving way in his claws, part of the soaked ground heaving and collapsing on their heads, pushing them back under. Quickly he hauled her back up, gasping and choking and covered in mud, and pushed as far away from the bank as he could. 

Now he could see where they were. They had gone far, far downstream, to clay beds his tribe had once used before they moved to their new home farther west. The sides of the channel rose high above them in steep miniature cliffs, and the rain threatened to bring them all crashing down. And he knew then, with frightening clarity, that it could be miles before the river would let them leave. 

Glancing down at the pale girl in his arms, Inyasha began to worry. Truly worry. Because she might very well die if she didn't get out and get warm soon, and the odds of that happening weren't good. He was filled with the strange and disturbing sense that the life in his arms would fade away if he didn't hold onto it tight enough, so he clutched her against him as he kept her head up, not caring how much water he swallowed in the process. 

Her body started to go slack, and his eyes widened. "Oh no you don't. I forbid you to die. You got that?" He shook her until she looked up again and locked gazes with him, their faces nearly touching. "I order you," cough, "not to die." His stern glare faltered. "Please?" 

------------ 

Dawn's fresh scent came at last, bringing with it the end of the storms. The forest sky began to lighten well before the sun rose; the trees still dripping and a faint mist clinging to the air, the gray morning gloom still all but for two figures. The first stood slowly, almost shaking with the effort. It stayed for a moment unmoving, hunched over while the water ran off its body. Then it straightened and turned, pulling the second form from where it lay unmoving on the bank and scooping it up. Cradling it in strong arms, the figure shifted it gently, then bounded wordlessly into the trees. 

Inuyasha ran in silence, ran until he found a small clearing sheltered by thickly woven branches, and it was there that he set the girl down. She made no complaints as he lay her as carefully as he could onto a hastily gathered pile of rushes and leaves; she made no moves at all. The only sign that she was still alive was the rise and fall of her chest, her shallow breathing. Consciousness had abandoned her at last. 

He crouched down on the ground beside her to examine his ward, ears flicking back and forth to make sure nothing approached. He put a hand on her wrist to feel her pulse, a slight frown touching his brows at how cold her skin was. Then he checked for cuts and bruises. 

His light touch brought a response from her at last. As his claws passed over her left leg, her body jerked away with a pained hiss, eyes clenching tighter without opening. Startled, he scooted back a few paces and settled into a defensive crouch, but the girl didn't move again. It had been reflex; she was still asleep. 

Flattening back his ears, he cautiously approached her still form again, and examined the leg closer. _Twisted. Damn._ The swelling and bruising around her slender ankle marked the early signs of a bad sprain. She wouldn't be walking back. 

"You're a tough one, I'll give you that," he said at last with a sigh to break the silence, setting her leg down again. "Fool..running away in the middle of a storm like that. What the hell were you thinking?" 

No answer, but he hadn't expected any. 

"You could've died. Hell, it's a miracle you didn't. You're just lucky I'm not angry, or I'd kill you myself for pulling a stupid stunt like this." He blinked. _What the..I'm really not angry._ The revelation surprised even himself. 

By all that was good and reasonable and holy, he should have been mad. No, he should have been furious--livid. But somehow, he just couldn't summon up the energy for it. All attempts to call on his temper and direct it at the girl failed: he was just relieved she wasn't dead. Inuyasha sighed again and rested his forehead in his hand, feeling his exhaustion all at once. Both physical and mental. 

"Well.." he said uneasily to the unconscious girl, slowly getting up. "I suppose I don't have time to be angry right now anyway, so I'll overlook it this time. But don't you dare do it again." Looking about the clearing in the crisp morning light, he inhaled deeply, breathing in all the scents of the area. _I guess I threw myself in the damned river after all,_ he thought, noting the irony of it, and turned back to Kagome. She was breathing steadily now, but her skin was still an unhealthy pale, and every so often she shivered. His frown deepened every time she did. 

It was time to get started. He could smell the plants he needed; they'd make the swelling go down, that was first priority. And wood, he'd need dry wood for a fire; he dreaded finding that after this rain. Going over his mental list, he started out. Then glanced back nervously at her as if she'd disappear if he turned away. "I'll be right back, just hold on." He took a few more steps and hesitated. "You stay this time, alright?" 

She whimpered in her sleep, wincing painfully. 

"Oh, fine," he said gruffly, going back and picking her up. He did it so gently that her leg wasn't disturbed at all. "I'll take you with me just this once. A bear would probably come and eat you anyway. Feh." For a moment he felt silly, lecturing and posturing to an unconscious human. "But don't you think I'll be getting into a habit of this--soon as that leg is better you can use your own feet, thank you very much." 

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he scowled. "And I am _not_ softening." 

---------- 

Miles back upstream, the first of the tribe began to stir as well with the morning light. They were tired and bedraggled from the night's adventure, but awoke without complaint and began to prepare the morning meal. By the time the sun had fully risen over the hills, the camp had come alive with bustling movement, from checking on prisoners to drying out supplies; nearly everyone was up and doing something. 

All but one. 

A young brave ran everywhere through the camp, a worried frown touching his boyish features. He searched high and low, circling the tribe twice before he stumbled upon Miroku at last, buried under a massive heap of blankets. The only part showing was the tip of the shaman's staff. 

The brave blinked. He thought Inuyasha had taken the last of the sheets; where on earth had the shaman gotten so many? Oh well. "Miroku? Sir, is that you?" 

The mountain of blankets groaned and shifted, before the shaman finally managed to find his way out and blinked drowsily in the morning sun. "Ahanu?" He yawned and stretched, rubbing his eyes. "What is it, what do you need?" 

"Sir," Ahanu said in earnest, dipping his head in respect, "I came to tell you that Inuyasha is missing. I have searched the whole camp all morning, but there's no sign of him at all, or of his prisoner. They're both gone." 

"Oh," Miroku said, scratching his head. "Yes. That." He looked slightly sheepish for a moment, but immediately composed himself and got up, dusting himself off as he straightened. "Inuyasha told me he will be away for a few days," he lied smoothly, "on important spirit-business. He says not to worry and to keep going, he'll catch up with us on the way." The shaman's face was a flawless mask of grave calm. 

The young boy nodded quickly, still nervous. "Thank you, shaman, I'll tell the rest of the tribe." He turned to leave, but Miroku suddenly held up a hand to wait. Ahanu stopped and waited, clearly confused, while Miroku put a hand to his chin in thought. 

"Ahanu," Miroku said after a long pause, acting on sudden impulse. He had a plan. Oh yes, he had a plan. "One..one other thing. Inuyasha asked me to inform the tribe of his, how shall I put this..romantic intentions." The boy's face positively lit up, and Miroku nodded, smiling. "Yes, towards the girl he selected. I'm sure you understand what a joyous occasion this is." 

"Oh, yes! I can't believe it--we thought he'd never take a wife. The whole tribe will want to know about this!" The boy was absolutely delighted at the thought of their great leader finally finding someone; Ahanu was simply that good-hearted, innocent type. And there was no doubt most of the tribe would feel the same. 

This was turning out so much better than Miroku had thought. He didn't even regret not capturing the girl himself now, even if she was very pretty. He had only been teasing the half-spirit before about needing a woman, but now..now, he wondered if maybe it was true. Maybe this is exactly what the irate Indian had needed all along. Much as he loved to taunt Inuyasha, he really did have the spirit-boys well-being in mind. 

They'd thank him for this someday. Really. 

Miroku pat Ahanu on the back, guiding him in the direction of the tribe. "Why don't you go tell them, then?" he suggested innocently. "All of them." 

------ 

Author's Note: Again, eternal apologies for leaving you all waiting so long, and on a cliff hanger at that. *bows before all and begs for forgiveness* It won't happen again! (if it does, I give you all free lisence to beat me). 


End file.
